


And The Reason Comes In The Common Tongue

by paladin_piper



Series: Maybe I Enjoy the Punishment; Maybe I Enjoy the Chase [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Age Difference, Alistair/Cousland mentioned, Barebacking, Biting, Chapter 1 Tags:, Chapter 2 Tags:, Choking, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Darkspawn, F/M, Feel-good ending, Fighting, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends With Benefits, Light Bondage, Mild Injury, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Terrible Found Family AU, Vague Emetophobia Warning, size queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paladin_piper/pseuds/paladin_piper
Summary: Cecilia Cousland laments her twentieth birthday, and how she wishes her life was just a little bit different. Takes place between the ending of Dragon Age: Origins, and the beginning of Dragon Age: Awakening.Chapter 1 is rated T, Chapter 2 is rated E.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This was written for the DA subreddit's Saturday Writing Thread on 6/15/19 for the Bonus Prompt #2 -- Freeform. As you can see, it got a bit out of hand. Chapter 1 wraps up this little ficlet, but if you like spicy stuff, then continue on over to Chapter 2.

**9:31 Dragon**

 

She watches the moon creep overhead, counting the seconds until it falls into place.

 

_ Midnight. _

 

A long sigh. Cecilia rises from the ground and walks over to the wood piled neatly by the fire — Loghain’s handiwork, no doubt. As the sole Grey Wardens in Ferelden, it’s their job to finish beating out the last lingering pockets of Darkspawn from the Blight before they have a chance to crawl back underground. 

 

The fire crackles as she tosses in a log. 

 

_ Happy birthday.  _

 

There were a million ways she expected to spend her twentieth birthday. With her parents and Fergus. Mother would bake a cake, Father would set off fireworks that spook the horses, and Fergus would try and slip in as many dirty jokes as possible while singing happy birthday to her. Or with Alistair. As Queen.  _ I promise Cece,  _  he whispered to her one night, their bodies pressed together in the cool darkness of the Brecilian Forest,  _ we’ll throw a great party for your birthday. Cakes and sweets, fine cheeses and drinks and foods from around Thedas. And everyone will be there! Including me.  _ Especially _ me. Maybe not Morrigan, but definitely me. _

 

Instead she’s out in the middle of the fields of Ferelden, knee-deep in mud, her parents and fiancé dead and barely cold in the ground. She’s out in the middle of the fields of Ferelden in uncomfortable armor, hoping this fire will fend off the fog of rainy season while Loghain snores, flopped out on their only bedroll.

 

Cecilia breaks a stick over her knee, tears pricking at her lavender eyes. The flames lap at the wood when she tosses it into the fire. She quietly whispers a tune to herself, a song Mother used to sing for her birthday. 

 

_ If Father were still alive, you’d beg him to let you march this year with the soldiers,  _ she thinks to herself, sitting back down beside Loghain.  _ You’d argue over it, as you always did, then storm away, as you always did. But you could never stay mad at Father, and you’d make up by the end of the night. He’d hug you, tell you he loves you, and then press a sweet into your hand with a wink. _

 

Cecilia picks at the dead grass beside her, letting the breeze carry it out of her hands. In a sickening way, she finally got her wish — she’s marching as a soldier, but not in the way she ever thought she would be.  _ Never  _ in the way she thought she’d be. And a Commander at that; a commander of two whole people, one of them being herself.  _ How lucky you are. An impressive title, no doubt. _

 

Her eyes squeeze close for a moment, and she begs herself not to let the tears fall. Next to her, Loghain shifts and rolls onto his side, his thin brows knitting together as his expression turns downward.  _ Nightmare.  _ Cecilia’s not sure if it’s a Warden nightmare, or something else. Honestly, she prefers not to know. They both have dreams that haunt them, images they never want to relive again yet do every time they close their eyes. A soft stroke of her long fingers across his strong shoulder rouses him from his dreams, and bleary blue eyes blink up at her when she leans over him.

 

“Midnight switch. Wake me up at five to march. Long day tomorrow.” 

 

A grunt is all she gets in response, and the pair switch places. She’s learned how to sleep in her armor, and the bedroll is still warm from Loghain’s body. With a sigh, Cecilia turns into her side and closes her eyes, drifting to sleep with the sound of thunder in the distance rumbling in her ears.

 

_ Happy birthday, fool. _

 

_ — _

 

Cecilia’s twentieth birthday could not be going any worse.

 

Her Warden senses have her up long before five, her sword and shield in her hands before she’s barely out of her bedroll. “Darkspawn,” she spits, hopping to her feet and hastily brushing the sleep from her face. Loghain keeps his sword sheathed, opting for his bow as they stare into the forest that runs beside their camp. Two shots are fired off, and as Cecilia’s eyes adjust, she can see the glow of sickeningly yellow eyes scurrying behind the trees.

 

“I believe I saw an emissary. Genlock. Bastards.” Loghain’s eyes are hyper-focused on the treeline as he draws another arrow. The shot lands, and they hear the sickening screech of a Shriek gurgle into nothingness.

 

“Charge or wait? We can draw them out.” 

 

“It’s your call,  _ Commander.” _

 

Cecilia swallows hard, adjusting the shield strapped to her forearm. She’s still not used to that title, and right now, she hates it.

 

“Charge, and wipe them out.”

 

—

 

Their charge is a bloody disaster.

 

They stalked quietly over to the trees, hiding under the guise of night. Cecilia thought they might be able to get the jump on the Darkspawn, catch them unprepared. But are Darkspawn ever unprepared? Cecilia feels she should know the answer to that question by now.

 

The rain gives them away. A crack of lightning reveals their position, and the Darkspawn swarm them before they expect it. Shrieks rise from the ground, spells from three different Emissaries fall around them freezing them in place, and swarms of grunts surround their perimeter, lunging at them.

 

“ _ Shit,  _ what do we do?” Cecilia yells as the rain begins to pour. It’s a heavy rain, one that soaks them both to the bone immediately. The Darkspawn are unaffected, and Cecilia panics as they start to move closer to the pair.

 

Loghain’s back presses against Cecilia’s, his sword and shield drawn. There’s irritation in his voice when he speaks. “I was thinking we ask them to leave. Politely. Unless you have another bright idea?”

 

A Shriek is the first to lunge, and Cecilia and Loghain both fire off war cries before charging. The battle is long and bloody, and there’s something  _ wild  _ about these Darkspawn that Cecilia has never seen before. Their fighting is too… cohesive, too planned. Darkspawn rarely, if ever, fight like this.

 

Popping the top off a vial within her potions bag, Cecilia takes a quick dose of lyrium then charges at one of the Genlock Emissaries. A dispel of his spells leaves him dazed, and Cecilia lashes out with a cry and a pummel strike to his twisted face. The Emissaries might be Void-stricken monsters when they’re on the outskirts of a battle, but get close enough to them and they’re useless. A hard shield bash follows, and Cecilia sighs in relief when the creature’s tainted blood spills over her dirty blade and he slumps to the ground in a pile of its own refuse.

 

The lyrium surge makes her cocky, and Cecilia lets her guard down for a moment. But a moment is all that the Darkspawn need, and then she’s face-down in the mud. A Shriek swipes at the back of her head, slicing through the chainmail that sits behind her neck and digging into her flesh. She can’t help the scream of pain that escapes her, but she manages to roll onto her back in time to see Loghain charge over. With a fearsome cry, he knocks the creature off of her with his shield, then drags Cecilia to her feet. 

 

“Is this your first day with a sword? Pay attention!” He barks at her, and for a moment Cecilia is back at Castle Cousland. A training day with Loghain, where every flaw, every mistake is pointed out with a harsh tone and icy eyes focused on her. She would repeat the lesson again and again, until it was perfect by Loghain’s standards. But nothing was ever to his standards, and as he glares at her, covered in Darkspawn blood and shit and soaked to his core, she knows she’s still not at his standards.  _ And you never will be. _

 

He pushes her away when he lets go of her arm, and Cecilia falters for the briefest moment before catching herself. Looking up at the sky, she can see the sun peeking behind the heavy rain clouds as the storm continues.  _ Maker, have we been fighting for that long?  _ But she doesn’t have time to contemplate, nor focus on how her body is screaming for sleep and nourishment. No time for that as the Darkspawn regroup and charge again. She deflects a bolt of lighting off of her shield, then charges at the nearest Darkspawn, screaming.

 

She’s not sure if the scream is out of intimidation, irritation, fear, or frustration.

 

—

 

The last of the Darkspawn run off into the forest a few hours later, and Cecilia falls to her knees when Loghain declares the chase they give a lost cause.

 

“They’ll reappear soon enough,” he sheathes his sword, turning sharp on his heel. He either doesn’t notice Cecilia heaving on the ground, or chooses not to.

 

“W—water—“ her voice crackles. She feels weak, faint, and the rain beats down on her back as she leans on her forearm, gloved fingers gripping at the mud as she tries to rise back to her feet.

 

“It’s falling from the sky, open your mouth,” Loghain replies gruffly, finally turning around. “Oh, Maker’s breath,” he grumbles, marching over to her and offering a hand. A look of shame crosses her face as she accepts it, falling into his arms once she’s on solid footing. The fighting took more out of her than she expected; her teeth chatter as thunder roars above them. “Can you make it back to camp?”

 

Cecilia nods. She wants to believe in herself. Loghain hooks an arm around her waist, slinging one of her arms across his wide shoulders. When he rises to his full height — a foot well above Cecilia -- her legs dangle off of the ground. If she wasn’t so blasted weary, she might have laughed at this. One look at Loghain’s face shows that this isn’t a laughing matter.

 

“Sorry,” is the last thing she says before her eyes roll into the back of her head and she collapses into his arms.

 

—

 

When Cecilia regains consciousness, the moon is high above them. She jumps up with a start, her armor gone and replaced with a heavy blanket tucked over her. Loghain’s broad back is to her as he sits by the fire, the smell of roasting nug curling around their makeshift camp.

 

_ Nice, idiot. Passing out after a fight. I thought your stamina was better than that.  _  Her chastising thoughts make her head throb, and Cecilia swipes her hand at Loghain, coughing around her raw throat. 

 

“Ah. You’re awake,” is his terse response, and as he passes a water canteen to her, she sees makeshift bandages running up his arm and a bloody cut across his cheek: two things that weren’t present when she fainted.

 

She drains the canteen in a few sips, already feeling the life flowing back into her. “Did the—“

 

“Darkspawn come back? Yes. You’re  _ observant _ ,” Loghain snaps, but he softens as he sees her recoil. “They’re organized. It wasn’t a horde; more like an army. I don’t like it.”

 

“You’re hurt, Loghain. Let me help you bandage that wound properly.” When Cecilia turns to grab the first aid kit, a wave of nausea overtakes her and she pulls her knees to her chest, burying her head between them.

 

His hand is cool through the thin fabric of her tunic as it presses against her back. Cecilia leans into the touch, and thankfully Loghain catches her when she slumps over. 

 

“You’re weak.”

 

She knows that his words are a comment on her condition, but they dig so much deeper than that. Cecilia flinches away, sitting back up on her own and scrubbing her face. “I’m  _ fine. _ I don’t need to be coddled like a child.”

 

With a sigh, Loghain pulls away and turns back to his dinner. The smell of the roasted meat makes her stomach flip and drop at the same time. He mumbles something, a few words that she can’t make out, but by his tone she knows they’re not pleasant. Loghain hates weak links, and today that’s exactly what she was.  _ If not for my clumsiness, my bad call, not taking potions, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. _

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Loghain turns, swallowing the food in his mouth. “Yes,  _ Commander _ ?”

 

“What was it you said?” Her tone is just as biting as his own. She could cut the tension between them with a dagger as they stare the other down. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

 

“‘Twas nothing,” his answer is far too fast, and Cecilia frowns. 

 

“Don’t bullshit me.”

 

He wastes no time with his next response. “Next time you decide to make a call, make it one that won’t nearly get you killed. Think for once in your life.”

 

“I—“ Cecilia should be furious. She’s a fine strategizer: it’s one of the few compliments Loghain has ever give her. Her prowess in battle is second to none. She knows he’s being bitter because of his wounds and because she pushed herself too hard. But something cuts  _ deep  _ at her, and makes all her emotions from this morning boil over.

 

She sniffles, turning away and scrunching her nose up. Alistair always said she looks like a Mabari pup when she’s about to cry.  _ Don’t cry, my love! I’m here, and there’s nothing to be sad about!  _ His voice rings in her ears, and she swears she can feel his touch wiping the tears from her cheeks.  _ Come here, my dear. Let me hold you. _ When she opens her eyes, she expects to see Alistair there, with his big goofy smile and his kind brown eyes focused on her. She’d crawl into his arms and spend the night there, just the two of them.

 

Instead, she sees nothing but darkness around her.  _ Stupid, stupid fool that I am! This is all my fault! As is everything else! _

 

“Oh, Andraste’s Grace, Cecilia. Don’t start crying now.”

 

“I’m not crying!” She yells, her words punctuated by a hard sob. Wiping her face on her sleeve, Cecilia turns farther away from Loghain, sitting up and crossing her legs with her back to him. “I’m fine!” She sounds like a petulant child demanding a toy, but she has the  _ right  _ to cry, damn it! 

 

Loghain makes his presence known with a brush of his fingers against her shoulder. Cecilia snaps away from his touch, and she silently wishes her hair was loose so she could pull it around her. She uses the blanket instead, winding it around her shoulders and sinking her head down. “Go away.”

 

“Don’t bullshit me,” he parrots her words back at her, and Cecilia wipes her eyes on the edge of the blanket. “I’ve known you since the day you were born, Demon. You only cry when something is on your mind.” If the childhood pet name was used to make her smile, it works, if only for the briefest moment. “In fact, the last time I saw you cry was when we tried to teach you how to joust, and you were ten. You’re nineteen now. A commendable streak, really.”

 

Silence is her answer, then the crying starts again. Cecilia buries her face in her hands, loud sobs escaping from between pursed lips. There’s a quiet pause behind her, and Cecilia hears soft counting and then an irritated noise. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? Is that why you’re crying so much?”

 

The sob turns into a wail, and she ends up in Loghain’s lap, her head pressed against his chest. Calming strokes of his fingers push down her hair, and Cecilia can feel his steady heartbeat against her ear. Despite their perchance for occasionally falling into bed together, the soft press of his lips to her forehead is only meant to calm her down. “Shh…” he mutters, hugging her tighter to him. “It’s alright, Cecilia.”

 

“No, it’s  _ not _ ,” she finally whimpers out, her tears staining his tunic. As she speaks, little sobs interrupt her sentences, making her feel childish and foolish while she tries to explain herself. “I should be home in Highever… with Mother and Father and Fergus and… and Oriana and Oren. Mother would bake me that cake you say is… was so  _ Orlesian.  _ Father setting off fireworks that wake the whole city--”

 

“We all--”

 

“Or with Alistair. If I wasn’t so _stupid_ he’d still be alive! His blood is on my hands and it’s my fault and I should-- I should be _Queen_ and wearing a pretty dress and… and eating fancy foods... but instead I’m _here_ with _you_ ass-deep in Darkspawn fucking shit… balls… piss… fuck--” Loghain knows the scream is coming, and he uses his hand to press her face into his broad chest to muffle it as best he can. It’s cathartic to scream outside of battle, and Cecilia screams and sobs and wails until her voice is hoarse and her eyes are raw. She pounds her fists on his chest, thrashes in his arms, and yells nonsense until she’s worn herself out. 

 

Cecilia is panting when Loghain moves his hand from the back of her head, and she looks up towards him with wet eyes. A heavy thumb wipes a tear from her cheek and Loghain sighs softly. “We all have places we’d rather be, with people we’d rather be with. This is the life of a soldier, and the life of a Warden as well. But,” he pauses to wipe away another tear from her face, “we have to make due with the hand that Fate deals us. The Maker moves in mysterious ways, you’ve said that yourself.”

 

She sniffles, then takes a moment to blow her runny nose in the fabric of Loghain’s tunic.

 

“... Alright,” he says with a hint of annoyance.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s… fine. Try and stomach some food; you got sick while I carried you back to camp.”

 

The two of them spend the night in a peaceful silence, with Cecilia in Loghain’s lap as she picks at her dinner. Despite the cloudy day, the night sky shines bright. Cecilia can count every star, and she traces the constellations with her eyes until they’re heavy with sleep. She slumbers against Loghain’s chest, and wakes up the next morning tucked back into the bedroll, the blanket that was around her shoulders spread out over her. The sun is high overhead, and Cecilia figures it must be nearing noon.

 

“Ah, you’ve decided not to sleep the day away I see,” Loghain says, a rare smile teasing at his lips when he sees her sit up. “I scouted the woods this morning. It seems whatever Darkspawn we didn’t get yesterday have fled. We should move back closer to the Bannorn, see if any pockets are left before letting the farmers go back out.”

 

Cecilia nods, and when she pushes herself up to her feet, she’s not unsteady like she was the day before. She sees Loghain’s smile grow, and she lightly swats at him when he rises to his full height. “You’re growing soft, old man.”

 

“Never, Demon. Come, we have a long day ahead of us.”

 

\--

 

They spend the next week clearing the last of the Darkspawn from the edges of Rainesfere, one of the places hit hardest by the Blight. Cecila manages not to pass out during these fights, and Loghain manages to avoid any more injuries. Once they reach the edge of the city limits, Cecilia can’t help the weary smile that breaks across her face. A warm meal and a roof over her head await her within the city, after some parliamentary business, of course.

 

“Find a nice tavern and get yourself a meal and a room. Teagan is supposed to be meeting me here within the next hour so the soldiers can assist the refugees in getting back to their farms. After that, we’ll push back to Denerim.” Cecilia nods, adjusting the sword strapped to her back. 

 

“Yes, Commander.” Loghain nods back, and Cecilia pushes gently at his chest with a light tone in her voice. 

 

“You know I hate that title. Take care, I’ll find you soon.”

 

\--

 

The tavern is not Loghain’s first stop. He is parched, make no mistake, but there are other matters he has to attend to first. Like swallowing his pride and stepping into a bakery that’s so sickeningly Orlesian it makes him want to retch before he’s even through the door. He feels out of place in his ill-fitting Warden armor, his head barely brushing the short doorway as he walks in. One icy glare leaves the baker quaking in his silk boots, and he’s given the cake he points to  _ “free of charge, Messere.” _

 

With the little white box tucked under his arm, Loghain tredges through the crowded city until he finds the nicest tavern near where Cecilia is meeting Teagan. A few silver and a gold piece buys him a spacious room and two bottles of fiery whiskey, and Loghain cracks open one of the bottles as he waits for Cecilia to return. 

 

He hates to admit it, but the little yellow cake smells delicious. Like candied fruit and fine sugar, and the little sunflowers piped onto the top of it with thin gold icing are rather well done.  _ For an Orlesian hand, of course. It doesn’t compare to Eleanor’s handiwork.  _ Loghain’s sure Cecilia will understand if a slice is missing…

 

\--

 

Cecilia ducks inside the crowded tavern just as the rain starts to fall. Blasted men, they kept her far beyond her expected time, arguing over land treaties and property lines. She barely managed to make it out of that meeting with her sanity. Moseying up to the bar, Cecilia gets the attention of the busy barkeep with a wave of her hand. “Excuse me, has another Grey Warden come in here recently? Tall, pale, scary eyes?”

 

“Yes Ser, last room on the left upstairs.”

 

She takes the stairs in twos, tucking hair back into her bun before she opens the door. Loghain is mid-sip out of a bottle of amber liquor, and he swallows hard with wide eyes as she enters. “ _ Ahem! _ \-- Ah, happy birthday.”

 

Cecilia sees the unopened bottle of whiskey set next to a cake box, and she covers her mouth to hide her smile. Tears -- this time of happiness -- prick at her eyes, and she makes a small noise of glee. “Oh, Loghain…” 

 

“I’m not singing,” he says, trying to sound gruff as she walks over and picks up the bottle. The label says cinnamon, and that’s all Cecilia needs to see before twisting off the cap. She desperately needs a drink after the day she’s had, and the warm whiskey is a welcome splash over her dry throat. 

 

“Please don’t… Only half a cake?” She asks as she lifts back the lid of the cake box. Tugging off her gloves, she swipes a finger over the pastel yellow frosting and hums at the taste.  _ Nearly identical to Mother’s. _

 

“Wouldn’t you know it, those bastard Orlesians would only sell me half a cake. Blighted mongrels.” The trace of icing on his cheek gives away his lie, and Cecilia can’t help but laugh. Maker, it feels  _ good  _ to laugh. Cecilia wipes it away with her thumb, then leans over and presses a soft kiss to his cheek where the swipe of icing was.

 

“Thank you, Loghain. Honestly, you didn’t have to do this.”

 

“I know.”

 

Grins spread across both of their faces, and Cecilia pulls her dagger from her waist, pressing it into the soft cake. “Now, the rest of this? This is mine. I plan to fill myself up with this bottle and this cake and not remember the past week.”

 

“Come, then. Let us celebrate.”

 

Even though the celebration is a bit late and the rain is pounding outside, Cecilia chalks this up as one of the best birthdays she’s ever had as she gets stupidly drunk and stupidly full, laughing the night away with Loghain.  _ Here’s to twenty years, and hopefully to another twenty more. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing onwards! Enjoy the smut!

Cecilia isn’t quite sure how this keeps happening.

 

She’d like to blame it on the booze pumping through her body, but they’ve done this sober before. She’s also not sure if she can call this a  _ pattern _ if it’s only the fifth time this has happened, but it sure feels like a pattern as Loghain’s tongue traces up the side of her neck, then sucks a mark into the skin behind her ear. A familiar move that sends a shiver down her spine.

 

She’d like to blame it on them helping each other out of their bulky warrior armor, but that happened hours ago, well before they had both finished a good portion of their drinks. Blast the Darkspawn blood in them, it takes more than one bottle of whiskey now to get them sufficiently drunk. And she’s nowhere near drunk; she figures Loghain isn’t, either. Sharp teeth nip at her earlobe, bringing her back to her brain. Loghain grips Cecilia’s chin and they share a hot kiss, her knees buckling as he pushes her onto the bed. One leg around his waist pulls him on top of her, and Cecilia groans, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to taste copper in her mouth.

 

This is how it always seems to go with them. There’s no love in their sex; if there is, they supress it, ignore it, and pretend like it’s not there. It’s all biting and blood, heavy spanks and rough choking. The hand holding her chin drags down to her neck, and Loghain’s calloused fingers press down on the sides of it until Cecilia sees stars. The release is sweet, and Cecilia gasps for air.

 

“You look like a doe caught in the firelight,” he croons, tracing his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “Beautifully submissive.” The stars stay in her eyes when his lips press to hers, and she throws her arm around his neck to pull him closer to her. The kiss continues to grow, deepening as they adjust on the bed so Cecilia’s head is resting back on lumpy pillows. Cecilia strokes her fingers over Loghain’s high cheekbones, their tongues pressed together as they rock against each other. A gasp from Cecilia is all Loghain needs before he’s grabbing her by her hair, the ribbon and pins scattering over the bed as long black locks fall out and splay around her.

 

“Nice going, you’ve made a mess,” she chastizes, trying to ignore the weight behind her voice as she sits up. Their shirts are tugged off and tossed into a corner, to be forgotten until morning. 

 

“Do you think I care?” He shoots back, then his hand back around her throat, pushing her back onto the bed. Cecilia falls back with a  _ harumph,  _ but she can’t help the lopsided grin that crosses her face when Loghain tightens his grip. A moment later and he releases, both of them relishing this game of dominance, especially when he steals her first free breath away with a kiss. 

 

Loghain’s hands are still steady after all of this time apart, and he undoes the double-lace of her maroon breastband without so much as a glance downwards. He nips her jawline when they pull away from each other so Cecilia can slip the loosened strip of fabric over her head. 

 

For a moment, they don’t move. Both of them have a flush to their pale cheeks as they stare each other down, lavender focused on icy blue. Loghain makes the first move, leaning in to guide her back down onto the bed, sucking bruises into the porcelain skin of Cecilia’s shoulder. In response, Cecilia lets out a quiet moan, wrapping her arms around him as she settles back down. The blanket on top of the bed is a bit coarse, but not any coarser than Loghain’s stubble scratching into her skin.

 

Cecilia drags her nails down Loghain’s back, appreciating the hiss he lets out, then the hard bite that follows. She can see raised pink lines forming, marks that will linger in the morning that they’ll avoid and pretend aren’t there. That’s how it always goes -- their sex is an act that remains unspoken beyond the walls of whatever tavern (or the castle in Denerim, or Ostagar before the battle) they end up in together. 

 

He fastens a mouth on her breast, palming the other before squeezing her tit. The groan that leaves her lips fills the room, and she slumps her head back against the pillows. Cecilia hooks her legs around his lower back, heels digging into the small of his back. Loghain easily dwarfs her, and Cecilia is short to begin with. She hisses as Loghain bites the skin between her breasts, leaving a dark bruise that’ll only deepen before tomorrow, before moving to her other breast. 

 

“You’re bitey tonight,” she blurts out, slapping a hand over her mouth. Loghain’s chuckle is deep and rumbles across her skin. He raises his head to look down at her, peeling her hand from her mouth and pinning them both above her head.

 

“And you’re rather chatty. Come now, up.”

 

He swats her side and the pair move, shifting positions and shedding clothes until they’re both bare. Even though this isn’t their first time, Cecilia still shrinks and turns red once she’s spread out before him. And Maker, she’d hate to admit it, but Loghain is unfairly alluring to her. Covered in thick hair, still impressively dark and thick for a man nearing fifty, and underneath that is strong muscles that have barely begun to soften with age. The only interruptions in his hair are scars littered all over his body, earned from years and years of fighting. Cecilia has her own share of scars, the two most notable being the one tracing her jawline, and the other running up her outer thigh. Both were given to her by the Darkspawn;  _ blighted bastards. _

 

But right now, Cecilia doesn’t want to think about the Darkspawn, or the scars she’s proud to have. In fact, she can barely think at all as Loghain’s heavy hands guide her so she’s bent over on her knees, her ass displayed in the air, and her hands fastened to the headboard of the bed with his belt. The leather strap is thick, and it keeps her firmly in place. Cecilia feels his weight settle behind her, and he leans over her, the length of their bodies melding together. His cock is thick and heavy in the curve of her ass, nestled between her cheeks. When he shifts his weight, it grinds down on sensitive skin that makes them both noisy with need.

 

Two calloused fingers press to her lips, and Cecilia doesn’t need a command to know to take them into her mouth. She works her tongue over them, hollowing her cheeks and sucking as if it were his cock. Loghain pushes his fingers down her throat and Cecilia gags; in response, she grinds her hips up against him, raising her ass just high enough so his cock slips out and presses against her wet hole. She earns a smack to her rump for that, one that she knows will leave a stinging handprint just by how it rings out in the room. 

 

“Ass,” she curses as he pulls his fingers from her mouth.  _ That  _ earns her a smack across the face, and even though she can’t see him, she knows Loghain has a smug look of superiority. Leaning back over her, Loghain switches hands and goes back to her throat, choking her tight as his other hand traces down her body. Down her breasts and over her stomach, making shivers run up her spine, until his wet fingers settle between her legs. Fast circles are rubbed on her clit, and Cecilia moans as best she can with his hand around her throat.

 

Loghain bites down on her shoulder, his tongue tracing over a worn scar. Cecilia’s mind is racing, and her thighs quiver when she feels the head of his cock press against her cunt. “Slut,” he hisses in her ear, knowing how the vile insults make her embarrassingly wet. Loghain plays her like a fiddle, something she’s both ashamed of and impressed by. When he releases her neck, the rush of blood back to her head leaves her dizzy, and she hangs her head just far enough to see his fingers still rubbing her clit. 

 

“Please,” she whimpers, not bothering to lift her head. Clasping her hands together, she begs as best she can in the degrading position. “ _ Please, daddy. _ ”

The dirty nickname does the trick, and she can’t help the smile that breaks across her face when Loghain growls. She watches between her breasts as Loghain slips his hand farther between her legs, and a whine escapes her throat as he pushes his long middle finger inside of her. It’s been too long since she was last taken, and the first motion of Loghain’s finger moving in and out of her has her clenching her teeth to try and muffle the sound of pleasure threatening to escape her. She should feel shame, being so wanton and open for him after all this time; instead, she spreads her legs and begs for another finger.

 

Her head is turned and they share a heated kiss, all teeth and tongue as Loghain presses his second finger inside of her, gliding in easily due to her spit mixing with her wetness. He bites down on her bottom lip, and this time the copper she tastes on her tongue is her own. With her hands tied above her head, Cecilia can’t rock back on his fingers, but Loghain is not one to tease when they need each other so desperately. His fingers work her open hard and fast, and Cecilia can feel herself teetering on the brink of her orgasm far quicker than she’d like to admit. Loghain must notice it as well, because when he breaks their kiss, his fingers slip out of her as well. She can feel the trail of sticky wetness connecting her to him, and her face heats up when their eyes meet. It’s only a brief glance, but it’s filled with far too many emotions for her to decipher right now with her lustful brain. She knows passion, she knows need, but for a moment, she swears she sees an expression of caring and--

 

_ Bottle it up, throw it away. None of that nonsense here. _

 

Loghain leans back, spreading her thighs so he can nestle properly between them. Once again, the head of his cock brushes her hole, and Cecilia whines. “Just do it! Please!” She begs, looking over her shoulder as best she can with her hands tied above her. “Please,  _ please  _ daddy!”

 

The burn and sting of being stretched out, taken,  _ fucked  _ has Cecilia in near hysterics as Loghain fills her. He’s big, far bigger than she ever expected him to be; the first time they slept together, she could barely take all of him. Tears of pleasure drip down her cheeks as he bottoms out, and Cecilia’s fingers dig into the leather belt holding her in place. “ _ Thankyouthankyouthankyou, _ ” she babbles frantically, spreading her thighs as far as she can. She feels like she’s about to be torn in half, but she loves the pain. 

 

Loghain buries a hand in her long locks, wrapping her hair twice around his fist and tugging her head up. His other hand settles on her hip, gripping it tight to keep her steady. “Good girl,” he purrs, rubbing her hip in an uncharastically gentle touch for the bedroom. 

 

He nearly pulls all the way out of her, and Cecilia curls her toes and bites her lip in anticipation. Loghain’s first thrust is nowhere near as gentle as his calming stroke over her hip. It shakes the bed and Cecilia’s lavender eyes roll into the back of her head. She can’t quite place the noise she just made, but it’s somewhere between a scream, a beg, and a gurgle for  _ more.  _

 

And more he gives her. His hips snap as they fuck, every motion frantic and needy. Whatever love Cecilia might have thought lingered between them is nowhere present; this sex is nearly animalistic. A wanting, passionate, wet fuck. One that leaves the bed shaking and her wrists raw from pulling on the leather belt. In what little mind she has left, she whispers a silent apology to the room below them and whatever poor sod is stuck there listening to them.

 

As Cecilia has learned, being a Warden means a lot of aspects of your life change. You eat more and drink more, but it takes longer to feel full and drunk. You can walk for longer periods of time without tiring, and fighting can go on for hours at a time without breaking a sweat. What she  _ didn’t _ expect was how being a Warden means your sexual energy gets extended, too. Everything gets harder, moves faster, lasts longer, which can sometimes be annoying. 

 

Right now, she’s not complaining.

 

Her core is screaming as she’s strung-up to the headboard; she’s not sure how long they’ve been going at this, but Loghain’s rough thrusts haven’t let up. There’s a mix of pleasure and numbness between her legs, and she whimpers when Loghain tugs on her hair to snap her head back up.

 

He doesn’t ask if she needs to switch positions; it’s a silent conclusion, one she’s all too grateful that he’s come to as he undoes the strap around her wrists. But Cecilia barely has time to celebrate. A swat to her ass, and then Loghain is pulling out of her with a wet pop. “Back, now,” he barks, and Cecilia scrambles to get into the proper position. They’re both covered in sweat, that much is evident when Loghain rests his forehead against hers.

 

“Sure you can keep going, old man?” She teases, breathless. His hand guides her thigh to wrap around his waist, and she lolls her head back with a satisfied sigh and a smile as he fills her once again.

 

“Absolutely,” is his reply, and a sharp thrust leaves Cecilia gasping for breath. She winds her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder and biting at it when Loghain thrusts particularly hard. With her legs hooked around his hips, she’s his for the taking. And Maker, she  _ loves  _ how he takes her when they’re like this. Cecilia runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back and smirking as the bands that hold his braids in pop under her fingers. His scowl can’t hide the smile in his eyes, and Loghain rolls his hips deep into her, holding their position for a moment. 

 

Cecilia tenses, and Loghain drops his head as she tightens around him. A quiet  _ “Maker’s breath,”  _ escapes him, and when he finally moves again, the motion is slow and ragged and simply  _ agonizing.  _ She digs her nails into his back, wanting more and receiving nothing in return.

 

“What’s the matter? Tired?” She breathes, and she can feel her orgasm approaching yet again as he continues to hold his position, the head of his cock barely inside of her. The emptiness makes her feel hollow, and Cecilia pouts as she waits for a reply. A soft and borderline whiny “ _ Daddy _ ,” is whimpered, her nails digging deeper into the muscle by his shoulder blades.

 

When he finally meets her eyes, the icy blue is melted into a blazing gaze. Every word is accented with a push into her until he’s flush inside her. “Not. At. All.”

 

The speed and fury from before is back, and Loghain quite literally fucks Cecilia into the mattress. She laughs, wild and loud, not caring who hears them. Loghain adjusts his angle and the laughter turns into screams as he strikes her spot. Every thrust is another scream, a scream for “more”, for “harder”, for “yes yes yes  _ please _ !” until Cecilia’s words are meaningless cries.  

 

Heat builds in her stomach, and Cecilia knows she’s close. With a fist in his hair, Cecilia drags Loghain into a hard kiss to muffle her scream as she spills. It hits her hard and fast, and Cecilia nearly squeezes the life out of Loghain as her body tightens. Waves of pleasure wash over her, and after the initial shock, Cecilia’s world softens. The kiss breaks and she settles back against the bed, her hands running over Loghain’s broad shoulders and down his strong arms. She watches him with soft eyes, mewing soft words of encouragement as he pounds frantically into her. Barely a minute later and Loghain fills her with his seed, thrusting through his orgasm. She can’t help the happy laugh that leaves her at the feeling, and Cecilia hums lazily once Loghain’s motions finally cease.

 

They stay like that, until Loghain slips out of her and collapses on top of her. Cecilia squeals as they share tired laughter, and she swats at his back. “I can’t breathe!” Thick arms wind around her waist, and Loghain rolls them so Cecilia is laying on his chest. She squeezes her thighs together as she feels his cum leaking out of her, and she shifts awkwardly until she finds a position that’s comfortable for both of them. His arms stay wrapped around her as she lays her head on his chest, listening as his heartbeat slows down from the excitement. 

 

A kiss is pressed to the top of her head. “Are you alright?”

 

She hums in response and nods, too tired to speak. After a moment, she whispers a few weary words. “Good birthday present.”

 

When Loghain laughs it shakes Cecilia, and he wraps his arms tighter around her. “You’re far too much. Come, let us rest. We can make our way to Denerim tomorrow.”

 

Another nod, and Cecilia buries her head in his chest, curling up with a lazy smile. A moment later and sleep overtakes her, and she floats happily into the Fade dreaming of cakes and soft summer days, safe from the nightmares for one night in Loghain’s arms. In the morning they’ll ignore what happened, and nothing will come of it beyond some lingering looks and brief touches. But for now, Cecilia savors the feeling of him. It’s not love, it never  _ will  _ be love, but it’s something just as sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO SO much for reading! Please leave a kudos and a comment if you feel inclined to do so :) Special thanks to the-dead-pixel on tumblr for being my favorite beta ever (and dealing with me), and to the DA subreddit group for the weekly prompts!


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